


Our Kind of Relationship

by rotten_goddess



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Canon Compliant, Clothed Sex, Dubious Consent, Groping, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Non-Consensual Groping, Open Relationships, Other, Pre-Canon, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Stop-gap relationship, Underage Sex, more tags to be added probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23768806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotten_goddess/pseuds/rotten_goddess
Summary: Being bitter rivals since middle school, Oikawa Tooru and Ushijima Wakatoshi had pushed each other to the best of their abilities, challenging and inspiring one another to become stronger, better than anyone else.Those weren’t the only “benefits” they reap from being enemies on the court.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 45
Kudos: 201





	1. You Should Have Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally posted in FFN way back 2018 but my mind was a mess lol I kinda lost the time (maybe heart and interest as well) that I used to have when I was still a neet that I couldn’t continue the story anymore after the third chapter. I combined the first and second chap in here though, so FFN version will have one chapter more than here in AO3. Hopefully this time I can finish writing this.

Everything was perfect.

The sky was as blue and cloudless as Oikawa could wish for. The wind was cool and fresh against his face, too, creating a natural blush across his breathtaking features. The shopping district was twice as lively as usual, thanks to the number of couples loitering hand in hand in every few steps or so. It’s been a while since White Day fell on a weekend and everyone who received an answer to their Valentine chocolates the previous month were celebrating their new-found love life.

As for the Oikawa Tooru, he neither gave nor received a White Day present. Well, he did give his best friend and long time crush a Valentine chocolate (which the latter thought obligatory, and which he didn’t correct), but he wasn’t expecting to receive anything in return today. It was enough for him that Iwaizumi agreed to their date.

Or at least Oikawa wanted to call it. It’s not like he ever received a straight yes from the hard-to-seduce bastard. _But it_ _wouldn’t be that way today,_ Oikawa thought to himself, his eyes closed and his lips curved to a hopeful yet evil smirk, and his dominant hand balled to a fist. On his other hand lay a small box which contained his special present he was sure Iwaizumi couldn’t say no to.

Oikawa looked down at his watch and sighed. “Iwa-chan, you’re late!” he said, losing another bit of hope he was trying hard to hold down and keep standing by his side. He wasn’t even sure if Iwaizumi would turn up.

_And I even got_ this _far to seduce him!_

The brunette shook his head. “He’s coming. He’s coming. He’s not going to stand me up. I know he will—”

“Oikawa?”

Finally. A voice. A painfully familiar one, called him with such surprise, as if the space he was filling in that corner wasn’t some place he should be at. Or the man was simply at awe at seeing him. Well, he did look forward to this day, picked up and matched the best of his casual clothes and brushed and rebrushed his hair repeatedly so no single strand will stick out and destroy his beauty.

Yes, everything was perfect.

Except for two things. First, Iwaizumi was still nowhere to be found. And second, he bumped into the person he hated most—his mortal enemy inside the volleyball court, Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Ushijima was drenched in sweat, his shirt hugging his sculpted body even more as the sweat make it stick to his beautifully tanned skin, an effect of tireless training outdoor, and a proof of his love for the only thing that makes them somewhat related to each other—volleyball. Oikawa wondered how hard Shiratorizawa's second year ace train that never once was he able to beat him.

_Must be rigorous,_ Oikawa thought, watching the taller highschooler's heavy breathing. Ushijima's chest was heaving in an interesting rhythm, and his slightly parted lips looked surprisingly soft up close.

Since when did Ushijima look _this_ hot?

Oikawa mentally shook his head. He wanted to strangle himself for thinking just that. Oh, how he wanted to lick those sweat off Ushijima's face. Right, those pesky sweat, which fell freely from his forehead down his long neck, was blameworthy of Ushijima's sudden hotness. Yet Oikawa found himself grimacing when Ushijima did him a favor by wiping the sweat off his chin using the neck of his shirt.

"What are you doing here?" Ushijima asked. His voice was as cold as his body was hot. He sounded like he was about to scold Oikawa for standing there idly on a really nice weekend morning.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Oikawa asked back, narrowing his eyes and propping his free hand on his waist. Thanks to those words and he was back from his sick thoughts. "This isn't a place to jog around and work out." He meant that Ushijima's outfit looked rather out of place on the now crowding shopping district. More and more couples in their crisp and fresh and best casual clothes or skirts were filling the streets and nearby coffee shops. Others even looked sparkling just by standing side by side their partners.

And here they were, exchanging fiery glares, bodies emitting auras of pure hatred.

"So I was right." Ushijima's annoying monotone made Oikawa raise a brow. "You were the best yet you let your talent depreciate by wasting a day like this on a date instead of training."

"Heh?" Oikawa's brow went higher as a smirk appeared on his face. He had his chin up, not because Ushijima was taller, but that he was trying to “look down” on him. He was sure of it. Ushijima's voice, no matter how monotone, hinted jealousy. "Says the man who _can't_ have a date _on this day_ instead of training."

"Is a date more important than going to and winning the Nationals?" The question sounded rather matter-of-factly, like a great slap on Oikawa's face, like this date was the sole reason despite all his training and talent and effort, his team never won against Shiratorizawa.

And it irked him. So much that his right hand fell from his waist, and was suddenly balled to a tight fist, so as his right. His hands were clutched so tight he almost crushed the box his left hand was holding. Almost. But he didn't. Instead, for some odd reasons, the box jumped from his hand. Like a cat choked unintentionally but jumped away anyway.

What's worse, the box fell open, spilling and revealing its precious content.

All of Oikawa's anger vanished, panic becoming his top emotion. His mind seemed to stop working while he was so torn between sinking down to retrieve the remote control of the toy inside him, and looking up to see Ushijima’s face so he could decide what fib to tell him.

But his instinct told him never to look at Ushijima, especially now that his face heat up way too much it felt like burning. He was ready to kneel but his eyes caught Ushijima’s large hand picking up the love toy’s control.

Ushijima looked at the small rectangular object with a clip at the back, and a wheel-like button in its front. An iPod, so it seemed. But it looked pretty decent and new for an old version of a music gadget. What fascinated him though was the word written in the middle of the white wheel. Instead of the usual play-pause symbols, the word “HIGH” was printed on it. Could it be that it was the latest version which ultimate feature is to play music in full volume with just one click?

Ushijima’s curiosity towards the gadget made him click the said button, but he guessed he had to first turn it on before anything happens as he didn’t hear any sound from it.

But a high-pitched noise, like a tormented groan, reached his ears. And it came from Oikawa.

He looked up and found the new Seijoh captain doubled over, one hand wrapped around his stomach and another over his mouth in a rather desperate way, as if trying to choke up the sound he made earlier.

Ushijima’s forehead furrowed. Even with his head bowed, he was sure Oikawa’s face suddenly turned red. And he looked like he was about to burst, to vomit even.

“O-Oi.” Out of concern, Ushijima tried to reach Oikawa, but the latter pushed himself away from the rival school’s main canon.

“No…” Oikawa begged in a breathy voice. That was all he could do to try to keep his voice from coming out as a moan which was no easy feat now that the vibrator inside him was stirring like crazy. The hand on his mouth flew in front of him, wanting to keep Ushijima at an arm’s length, but his knees betrayed him that he had to clutch the taller male’s shoulder for support. He breathed out another “No” when Ushijima tried to catch him by the waist. “Don’t… touch. Just. That… just… g-give that back.”

Puzzled as he was, Ushijima didn’t ask what Oikawa was talking about. He simply stood there, hands in midair still wishing to assist the man who was doubled over in front of him. He observed the setter’s heavy breathing, drinking every inch of his embarrassed expression. Which was… beyond beautiful—that natural blush across the milky white face, brown eyes framed by thick lashes, those thin, parted lips sucking the same air he was breathing in. What did he do to deserve this?

“P-Please…” Oikawa’s painful gasp pulled Ushijima from his stupor, his fist getting tighter above his rival’s shirt. The toy was moving nonstop on high speed, even going deeper in his ass, torturing him as if it has a life of its own. “The controller.”

“Controller?” Ushijima repeated in a whisper, his furrow deepening in confusion. He looked at the blue iPod in his hand another time. And then it hit him. Yeah, what in the world did he do to deserve _this?_

“Oikawa…”

Oikawa noticed how the taller male’s voice sounded deeper than usual when he said his name, grabbing both of his shoulders. Now he couldn’t help but look up at him, giving the lefty ace the pleasure of watching his blushing face.

He couldn’t read through Ushijima’s expression. Yes, he always puts on a serious face, but that signature cold look seemed stained with something else.

“Who exactly is your date?” The deep monotone suddenly transitioned to a suspicious one.

_Had he noticed?_ “W-What?” He prayed to all the gods he knew that the nervousness in his voice didn’t give him in, if Ushijima still hadn’t had a clue as to what was really happening to him, that is. But given his question, he should start expecting the worst.

“Who is it?” Ushijima repeated, even his eyes were piercing him deeper, searching the answer in his teary brown gaze. “Is it a man? Did he force you into it?”

The hands over Oikawa’s shoulders tightened, bringing shivers down his spine. It also made him squeeze his ass tighter, causing the vibrator inside him go even deeper.

“Ah~” was the soft moan that escaped his mouth. He couldn’t help it anymore so he simply closed his eyes, trying to avoid the taller male’s gaze again. Ah, he so wanted to come. And the idea of doing just that in such a public place thrilled the exhibitionist he didn’t know lived inside of him.

The sight was simply torture to Ushijima. He now understood what’s happening to Oikawa, the beautiful and talented setter he had always admired. Oikawa’s form during his powerful serves played inside Ushijima’s head. Such beautiful form. The way that slim body curve and bend, and how his back arched before hitting the ball. If he could see him arch like that naked and on top of him, how blessed would his eyes be!

The thought clouded his mind completely and before he knew it, he was dragging Oikawa somewhere less crowded. Oikawa wanted to escape, to fight back, to release himself from the super ace’s hold, but the fingers were locked strongly around his wrist. Resisiting was harder because of the continuous vibrations inside him.

The egg was rubbing him good with every move. He was starting to get hard. Curse that stupid egg and his stupid idea of putting it inside him while waiting for someone who he knew wouldn’t show up.

The idea of Iwaizumi standing him up pained and upset him at the same time. He really shouldn’t have expected. Shouldn’t have invited him. Shouldn’t—

Bam!

He was pinned on a wall all of a sudden, finding himself on a dark alley, away from the racket of the busy shopping district. He didn’t even know where exactly he was now, though he was sure they didn’t walk too far.

“Now will you tell me what’s going on _inside_ of you?” Ushijima asked in his deep monotone. The alley was dark it was hard to make out the lefty’s expression.

Ah, but what indeed was going on inside him? Well, his tight ass was being violated by a toy, stretching him and giving him inexplicable pleasure. His face was as red as a ripe tomato now. He was so embarrassed of his state, yet the idea of being hidden in the shadows enchanted him to move his hips back and forth in the same rhythm as the vibrator. The hands that were supposed to push Ushijima away stayed on his sides, feeling the hard wall for anything he could grab for support.

_It’s dark in here anyway, maybe Ushijima won’t see,_ he told himself.

But the taller male was watching him intently. He could clearly see Oikawa’s lewd expression—his half closed eyes, his enticing red lips that were parted in such a seductive way, the rocking of his hips, and yes, the tempting bulge in front of him. It was so tempting he couldn’t help but grab it with his dominant hand.

Oikawa released another moan, which sounded like heavenly music to Ushijima’s ears. “Don’t… touch me there.” His hand finally found its way on the lefty’s shoulder, but remained too powerless to try and push him.

“Now, now. Is it ‘don’t’ or ‘touch me there,’ Oikawa?” Ushijima teased. A rare grin formed in his usually expressionless face.

“B-Bastard! Ah~”

Ushijima’s smirk went wider, groping Oikawa’s cladded hard-on with calloused hand. Even with the layers of clothing in between them, he could still feel the setter’s warmth. Just how addicting could it get?

One hand flew on Oikawa’s mouth. His moans were unstoppable. The sensation given by the vibrator and the rival ace was too much for him to handle. Anymore of it and he’ll go insane for sure.

“How does it feel, being stimulated on both sides? And doing it on a public place, too. Aren’t you such a pervert?” Ushijima teased.

Those were obviously insults, and Oikawa wondered how those words made him feel even hotter. Just when did he become a masochist?

“Ah… Ushi…waka…chan,” was the only retort he could muster. He couldn’t help his voice, nor his drool, nor his growing urge to climax.

“Do you want to come, Oikawa?”

Oikawa breathed out yet another lewd moan, he wanted to nod and say yes, to surrender to the lefty’s magical touch. He wanted so much to come and he was indeed on the edge. Yet a part of his mind told him to hold out. Because damn, it was his mortal enemy who was touching him! The idea itself should disgust him, not turn him on. He shouldn’t give in. And he won’t!

“Sto… stop! No more!” Oikawa pleaded in between pants. “I don’t… want this.”

_Only Iwa-chan. I only want Iwa-chan…_ he told himself over and over.

Ushijima frowned at the stubborn setter’s answer. He knew Oikawa was so close, his rocking hips were practically begging for release. Yet he was telling him to stop.

He rubbed Oikawa faster and harder. “You sure about that?”

“Please…” Oikawa begged, his eyes were both shut closed now. He didn’t want to see his tormentor’s face, nor let the tears forming in his eyes to escape. But damn, he really wanted to come! “Stop it… Just sto—”

It stopped.

It was so abrupt his eyes automatically popped open in surprise and disappointment. He looked at Ushijima, who paraded his signature frown and serious expression.

_What the?_ He almost blurt out.

“If you really don’t want it then I’m not going to force you.”

_Just what kind of asshole are you for saying that now?_ Oikawa wished to demand, but helped himself. He shouldn’t feel disappointed. Not the least bit! He didn’t want to be groped by the bastard in the first place!

“I was preposterous for thinking I should help. Then.”

Just that and Ushijima spun around and walked away. Not looking back once. Not saying anything. He simply left like nothing happened, leaving Oikawa in such a state.

Crap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is just an excuse for sucking but English isn’t my first language so any comment/ critic will be appreciated. Thank you for giving this fic a try!


	2. Hit It Until It Breaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m kinda hoping no one tried to find this on FFN since my work there was a mess that needed SO MUCH revision.
> 
> I'm also having trouble pasting my formatted chapter here for some reason. I read this like ten times already but I swear there are mistakes I’ll never notice until they story’s posted. Sorry in advanced.
> 
> Hey, I made some UshiOi [ sketch!](https://mobile.twitter.com/EMBERisHOT/status/1258982177875701761/photo/1)

Oikawa gave the impression of a punk who barely escaped his enemies when he creeped his way out of the dark alley on the far end of the shopping district. He was panting hard, face red and forehead filled with beads of sweat. He was limping, right arm holding his left shoulder as if supporting an injury. In actuality, the left hand that was dangling in front of him was skillfully placed to try and hide the growing bulge in his front.

Slow as he was given his current state, he still managed to find a public restroom. Luckily, the toilet was deserted, judging from the line of empty urinals. There were four cubicles at the farther end, all of them had their doors closed but seemed unoccupied as well. Oikawa brisk-walked towards the farthest cubicle, slamming its door shut as soon as he stepped in using all the shaky force he could gather. He made sure to lock the door to offer himself even more privacy just in case anyone comes, which he doubted given the location of the restroom.

Oikawa, hot and breathless, leaned on the door, feeling exhausted and powerless. At least he could finally have his much needed release. He thought he might as well take his time to jack off, but first he needed to deal with the little devil that was torturing him for a while now. The bigger devil, Ushijima Wakatoshi, didn’t return him the love toy’s controller. Thanks to that and the bastard’s ministrations earlier, Oikawa was already on the verge of exploding.

He unbuttoned his pants and undid the fly, freeing his hard member which grew too big to go hidden under his red lace thong. He even went the trouble of duping an innocent fan to buy him that sexy lingerie, all for the purpose of seducing Iwaizumi. Later, he scolded himself for not realizing he could have bought the item online.

“Iwa-chan,” came his breathy voice as he touched his erection. The image of Iwaizumi swimming in his dirty mind was half naked, muscular body heaving and slick with sweat, jersey shirt casually hanging on his broad shoulder. Water oozed out of the drinking bottle he was holding, the crystal clear liquid touching the sculptured body in slow motion, and the water bottle never running out.

It was hot. Sexy. Perfect.

Oikawa reached behind him, slipping his hand underneath the light material of the thong. The receiver of the vibrating egg was protruding from his twitching entrance. He rolled it around his finger and slowly pulled out, but stopped midway thinking the egg would help him achieve his needed orgasm. So instead, still with the receiver around his finger, he pushed the egg back inside his ass, pulled halfway again, and pushed it all the way in again, assaulting himself, masturbating with Iwaizumi’s drinking water show playing in his mind.

"Ah... Iwa-chan! You feel so good inside me, Iwa-chan!" he sang, fantasizing about his childhood friend. The hand that was bobbing up and down his cock was moving rather frantically, leading him on and on his edge. 

"Hm... ah... Iwa-chan... Iwa-chan!"

He couldn't control his voice anymore. He was screaming to his heart’s content, filling the public restroom with his lewd, lewd moans. 

Little did he know, someone else was inside the restroom, quietly taking his time masturbating on the very next cubicle. And thanks to Oikawa's sounds of pleasure, Ushijima felt hornier than ever.

Ushijima knew it was the setter ace who was making all those noises, as he knew his beautiful voice from memory. But to hear him moan his teammate's name... It never occurred to him.

Iwaizumi Hajime, the man he didn’t quite like since the first time they met back in junior high. He knew the other spiker felt the same toward him. It was bad blood at first sight, contrary to the strong attraction he felt when he laid eyes on Oikawa. 

Now he put two and two together. Why the overwhelmingly talented Oikawa would settle for a second rate school, why Oikawa wouldn't look at him the way he wanted to.

It was all because of Iwaizumi. 

He resumed stroking his manhood, now driven not only by his urge but also the jealousy that was coursing all over his strong body. 

“Oikawa...” His whisper was drowned by Oikawa’s very moans. He imagined himself thrusting inside Oikawa, imagined he was the one making the Seijoh captain make those lovely sounds. 

He closed his eyes, grunting as quietly as he could, as he felt himself explode. His orgasm went on and on, his breathing heavy but never loud enough to reach his screaming neighbor’s ear. 

Oikawa shamelessly called for his ace, begging him to go deeper inside him, like Iwaizumi was really there to fuck him like an animal in heat.

 _If only he would scream my name like that…_ Ushijima thought as his heat started to subside. 

No. It shouldn’t be _just_ a wish. He’ll make him. He’ll take him. One way or another. 

He gathered himself, wiped his hand and his cock with tissues, zipped up his pants and flushed the toilet in a way Oikawa would surely hear. Just as he expected, the noise from next door vanished. 

Oikawa held his breath, his lips pursed, mouth covered by the same hand he used to stroke his now neglected hard-on. 

_No way._

Just now… did he really hear a flushed toilet? Did someone enter the bathroom without him noticing? Or had someone been there all along?

 _Tooru, you idiot!_ he told himself, suddenly feeling embarrassed of all the noises he made. 

He listened carefully and heard a door opening. It was followed by a number of footsteps. It might be just his imagination, but his own heartbeat sounded louder than the gush of water that started flowing from one of the faucets. Every second was torture to him. The other person took forever to wash his hands. He could feel all the sweat he worked out trace his features. 

_God… just finish already and leave, damnit!_

Finally he heard the sound of the faucet being turned off, then some more footsteps. But the footsteps were getting louder each time, like the person was nearing him.

He was startled by a couple of knocks on his door. He held his breath again, covering his mouth harder. _Just what was this man after_ , he thought. He swore to himself never to open the door or it will be the end of him. 

The knock went on and a voice said, “Oikawa, open this up yourself or I will do it by force.”

That cold voice—which he was certain was Ushijima’s—made him shiver. Why did it have to be him? He looked for ways to escape, but there was only a little window on the wall, just enough to offer ventilation.

“Oikawa,” Ushijima urged. “Don’t make me any madder than I already am.”

Oikawa shut his eyes and thought. Ushijima being mad was none of his business. Still, who knows what the latter would do when he’s angered, or what was he to do once he opened the door? Humiliate him again? Ridicule him? 

Maybe he’ll blackmail him and force him to transfer to Shiratorizawa?

_In his dreams!_

Oikawa guessed he had no choice but to do as Ushijima wanted, so he squeezed his swollen dick back inside the red thong and tried his best to zip up his pants. It was painful, for both his dick and his belly. He was _this_ close to orgasm!

He unlocked the door and opened it a gap enough for him to peek outside, but Ushijima was not in the mood to wait any longer so he pushed the door wider, squeezing himself inside the small cubicle. He managed to close the door, pinning Oikawa there as he towered over him, gaze cold and intimidating.

“What—” Oikawa protested as soon as his wrists were above his head, held tight by one of the lefty’s large, strong hands. With the two of them inside the cubicle, the place became suffocatingly hot. And Ushijima’s body was hot. And his breath was hot. Oikawa felt long strides of sweat travel the length of his nape down his back, giving him a sweet kind of chill.

“W-What do you want?” The redness on his face settled on his cheek, like a teenage girl blushing shyly in front of his senior crush, though the reason for his blush was the heat from his unattended cock.

As if Ushijima knew this perfectly, his free hand made its way between Oikawa’s legs, making the setter gasp a lovely sound. 

“S-Stop.” Looking away, Oikawa tried to free his hands but Ushijima was just too powerful for him to fight back.

“Stop?” Ushijima repeated, displeased. “That was what you’ve told me earlier, which I did. But where did it bring you now, Oikawa? Are you still going to deny that you _need_ my help?”

This seemed to work and Oikawa bit his lips closed for a moment. He was indeed in need, not of Ushijima’s help in particular, but to finally, _finally_ have his release.

“Look at you, reacting like that even to the smallest touch,” the lefty teased, only he was still monotonous.

 _Damn._ “It hurts…” Oikawa meant both his cock and his grip, mostly the latter, but Ushijima took it as some kind of permission to violate him further.

“Of course it does,” Ushijima answered, stealing glances at the swell he was massaging. “We should let it breathe, shouldn’t we?” He pulled Oikawa’s zipper down, expecting to see a swollen dick spring up from its confinement and was caught off guard by the sight of the sexy lingerie.

Oikawa wasn’t even sure if he really screamed no or his yell was only in his head. Embarrassing wasn’t doing justice to how he felt when the head of his cock peeked out of the red thong, as if greeting the other male.

“That looks good on you.” Ushijima sounded excited for once, brows raised and eyes fixed on that oozing head, red and begging for attention. He felt himself swallowing at the thought of sucking the pretty setter. He wanted him inside his mouth, deep in his throat. He wanted to give Oikawa the pleasure he knew the setter ace deserved.

“No… don’t look! Stop touching me!” Oikawa cried when his rival started jerking him off. Ushijima’s palm was big and warm around Oikawa’s length. And it felt good, especially when the lefty brushed his thumb against the head, teasing his slit. 

“It’s okay to cum, you know,” Ushijima reminded him like he needed permission. His breath was as warm as his hand, and it sent chills down his spine. Ushijima was so close Oikawa could count the beads of sweat gracing his forehead if he pleased, or appreciate the thick lashes around his eyes, or his eyes. Olive-greens that reflected not only lust but also the clear image of Oikawa’s humiliating state. 

Oikawa chose to look away, chewing on his lower lip. That was all he could do to distract himself. Ushijima had increased his speed, calloused fingers wrapping his member in a way his hands had never done. It was getting harder to contain his moans, and even more to stop his hips from thrusting into that wonderful hand. He could only imagine a smirk up on the lefty’s face. 

“Come, Oikawa,” came another whisper, sexier this time. “Come for me.”

_This is so humiliating, there’s no way I would—_

But Oikawa could only hold out for so long. His body shuddered, screaming from the intensity of his much-needed release. He shot load after load of thick, rich semen which reached and stained the lefty’s training shirt. When he opened his eyes, he caught sight of the pattern his cum made across Ushijima’s clothes.

Ushijima brought his cum-stained hand near his mouth, making sure Oikawa see under his heavy lids how he licked his hand clean. Seeing the setter’s blush go deeper was gold. 

Ushijima didn’t say a word but the way he closed his eyes and sucked on his fingers suggested that the cum tasted good, making Oikawa want to taste his own jizz. He even imagined Ushijima teasing him with _Do you want to know how you taste like?_ before claiming his mouth, tongues twisting and pushing in a desperate battle for dominance, the aftertaste of cum lingering but forgotten.

It didn’t happen.

Oikawa looked away, feeling even more embarrassed than he already was. His breathing was heavy, body still trembling as aftermath of his orgasm. He waited for any insult from the lefty but nothing came. All he heard was his equally heavy breathing. He didn’t know if it was because of the silence, but he swore he could hear the vibrations of the love toy that was still inside his ass.

“Hm,” finally, Ushijima spoke, “my hand wasn’t enough for you, I see.”

“Eh?” Oikawa, surprised and puzzled with what he heard, looked at Ushijima again. The lefty was looking down, adoring the still erect dick that showed no sign of going limp. Or maybe it hardened again because of the vibrating egg, or Ushijima’s sexy act of licking his cum. Whatever the reason was, he had to calm it down.

Ushijima thought this too, and he spun Oikawa around so that Oikawa’s front was pushed against the closed door, his behind just inches away from touching the lefty’s growing bulge. Ushijima let go of Oikawa’s hands, pinning him down by the shoulders instead. 

“You bastard! What are you doing? Let me go!” Oikawa protested, palms flat on the door.

“I won’t until you’re satisfied.”

“As if! I’ll never feel good if it’s you!”

“But I did make you feel good,” Ushijima insisted. His voice wasn’t that of someone making an argument, rather it was his usual matter-of-fact pitch. “That was why you came.”

Oikawa suddenly fell silent, his face burning yet again. “T-that… that was a normal physiological reaction! You didn’t make me feel good at all!”

“Really now, Oikawa?” Ushijima answered, breathing every syllable of the line on one of Oikawa’s ears. He knew perfectly that the setter was going to deny him but hell was there a way to prevent himself from feeling upset. “Are you telling me that anyone can make you cum just because your body is supposed to react that way when touched? So even if it’s an old man, or a kid half your age, or some random bastard touching you, you’ll still be able to get off?” He bit the tip of his ear, earning him a soft moan.

Ushijima smirked, feeling triumphant. “Was that reaction physiological, too? Are you going to moan just because someone bit your ears, Oikawa?”

Oikawa ignored the sting of sinking his teeth hard into his lower lip. How was he supposed to counter? His mind was becoming a blur now that his erection was brushing painfully against the door in front of him. He wouldn’t admit it in a hundred years but he’ll very much prefer Ushijima’s warm hand around his cock than the cold, wooden door of that stall.

Ushijima took Oikawa’s silence as a sign of sweet surrender and he showered his nape with sound kisses, appreciating the the scent of his shampoo. His hands slid down his slim waist, impressed at how perfectly the curves fit between his large hands.

“You’re beautiful.” He kissed his neck some more, that which included licking and sucking of Oikawa’s sensitive skin.

Another moan left Oikawa’s mouth that he decided to purse his lips tighter, trying hard to prevent anymore unsolicited sound from escaping him. His effort was proven vain only seconds later, gasping again when Ushijima slipped a hand inside his pants, rubbing a finger against his throbbing asshole, eventually playing with the love egg’s receiver.

As if touching it wasn’t enough, Ushijima pulled his pants down to see with his own eyes the receiver protruding from between his ass crack, like a thin little tail sharing the same pink shade the controller had.

“Ah, you still have your toy inside you,” Ushijima exclaimed, trying to sound surprised, obviously amused. “You really are a pervert. Should I fuck you as is?”

“What?” Oikawa almost broke his neck as he tried to look back at Ushijima, who immediately pinned him again with his other hand. “You won’t!”

Ushijima planted a soft kiss against his shoulder blade. “Then let me pull it out for you now.” That was all the warning Oikawa could get because Ushijima really did pull the love egg out of him in one go. It was so sudden that more than the pain, he felt incomplete and empty instead.

"Look how soaked it is from your ass juices, Oikawa.” Like his cum-stained hand, Ushijima brought the still vibrating egg in his face, licking the moist that coated it.

Oikawa knew he should feel disgusted, but watched the show with open mouth, finding the act rather sexy. For a moment there, he even felt jealous of the toy and wished for Ushijima to lick him, too. Thank goodness all his thoughts were locked in his mind or he’ll have to go and kill himself now.

“I’m keeping this as a souvenir.” Ushijima wasn’t asking for permission, he was simply informing Oikawa of why he hid the egg inside the pocket of his sweat pants before pulling down a bit to release his erection. He himself didn’t think he could get harder just minutes after an ejaculation, but the setter ace was too tempting for his own good.

Oikawa’s eyes went wide when he saw the monster Ushijima was keeping inside his pants. It was huge like every part of him, length and girth worthy of belonging to Ushijima. The head alone was big, reminding him of the stretch he imagined upon seeing an ad for butt plugs when he ordered his love egg. It would sure be more than enough to fill the emptiness he was feeling, if and only if he would allow him entry to his ass.

“Just try anything funny and I’m going to kick your ass!” Oikawa dared, squirming against the strong arm that kept him from pushing himself away from the door.

Ushijima frowned. As much as he wanted to be inside Oikawa, he didn’t wish to force himself on him. He couldn’t afford to be hated anymore than he already is. He sighed, part of him felt defeated, another intent on making him surrender.

“I’m not going to fuck you without your permission.”

“I’m not giving you any,” Oikawa responded, yet he know even without the taller male’s hand behind him, he’d keep arching his back on his own so his ass could reach the heat that was Ushijima’s manhood. He wanted to touch himself, too.

“But if it was Iwaizumi?”

“What—what does Iwa-chan have to do with this?”

“You know I heard how you keep calling his name, begging him to fuck you,” Ushijima answered. His voice, deep, dark and commanding, made the setter shiver a bit more. “You won’t let me do you, but you’d let him.”

Oikawa clacked his tongue. “And so?”

“So I want you to close your eyes and pretend that I was him,” Ushijima explained, left hand still pressed behind Oikawa’s back, another groping the setter’s right hip, teasing the side of his ample ass cheek. “Scream his name as much as you want and I won’t make a sound. Whatever I do, think of him instead of me. I’ll make you feel good in his stead.”

Oikawa didn’t answer. 

“Now close your eyes,” Ushijima commanded the other. Oikawa did, brows making a furrow and lower lip bit hard. But he still did and that was all that mattered to Ushijima who continued caressing the setter’s hip. He watched his features relax a little. Slowly. Even his furrow loosened in every touch. 

“I-Iwa-chan,” Oikawa breathed dreamily. With his eyes closed, he didn’t see the change in Ushijima’s expression. 

Ushijima kept his promise of not breathing a word, planting soft kisses all over Oikawa’s neck, sniffing his scent and ingraining it deep in his memory. His dominant hand left the setter’s back to join his other hand in adoring the soft expanse of skin under the equally soft cotton shirt. 

His kisses went down his clothed back, lower and lower until his knees touched the dirty floor of the bathroom stall, until Oikawa’s delicious ass was right in front of his face. 

He kissed one of Oikawa’s cheek, feeling the softness of skin under his lips. Encouraged by Oikawa’s lovely, breathy moans he let his mouth wander a bit more. He parted his cheeks, observing the winking pink hole with lust-filled gaze. It was still loose from the egg that continued to vibrate inside his pocket. He caught himself salivating. He swallowed first, before inching closer again to lick the inviting hole.

Oikawa moaned a sweet one. His back arched further, as if wanting to shove all of his ass against the other male’s face. The licking intensified, until he felt a wet tongue work its way inside his hole. “Hm… Mm… more, Iwa-chan!”

Who was he kidding? As much as the pleasure was clouding his mind, it was still clear to him that Ushijima was the one eating his ass. He didn’t care. He pushed his ass back some more, urging his rival to rim him deeper. Because it wasn’t just good. It was excellent. He thought he could make him cum with just his tongue.

Oikawa felt like melting from that hot mouth and he struggled to find something to hold on to as the door in front of him was dead flat against his palm. He wanted to turn around, have his cock sucked, maybe hold on to Ushijima’s hair for support, but that would mean defeat. He was only having pleasure because “it was Iwa-chan.” Opening his eyes and doing as he pleased would only make vanish the illusion of Iwaizumi pleasuring him. As if there was an illusion to begin with, and he was sure Ushijima knew it, too. 

“Wanna come…” The words rolled out of Oikawa’s mouth before he knew it and he chewed his lips again, lest he might blurt out something he’ll regret for the rest of his life. Ushijima’s mercy was the last place he wanted to be in.

Ushijima felt his cock twitch from the statement. Oikawa’s probably not being worshipped enough to beg like that. He plunged his tongue deeper, started easing two fingers in him with the help of his overflowing mouth. He could go on rimming Oikawa forever, make him come as much and as hard as he wanted. As many times as it takes to satisfy him. His other hand reached for his cock. He was hard and ready, making a small pool of precum between his knees and behind Oikawa’s heels. 

He felt a hand over his head, pulling his hair for attention. Raising his eyes, he met Oikawa’s glassy stare. His face was red, down to his sexy neck. His hair was starting to look a little dishelved, but he wasn’t any less stunning. He was the epitome of perfect.

“Fuck…” Oikawa struggled. He was panting hard. He thought his brain lacked the oxygen it needed to think straight. Or at least shut his mouth. “Fuck me… Iwa-chan.”

Ushijima closed his eyes and gave one of the setter’s ass cheeks another kiss before standing up to comply. He almost lost his balance standing up, never realizing until now how his knees felt weak, not because of kneeling too long, but because Oikawa, despite looking him in the eyes, couldn’t see him. 

Iwaizumi Hajime is a wall that stood between him and Oikawa since time immemorial. 

_Tsk_. He mentally shook his head and focused on the task at hand. He pressed his body against Oikawa’s. Both were still practically clothed, yet they could feel each other’s heat. Face buried on the setter’s shoulder, he started thrusting his hips, feeling his hard-on squeeze itself into the tight space between his ass cheeks. 

Oikawa reached back to pull the lefty’s hair, his hips grinding back to feel his heat. “Condom… back pocket.”

Ushijima’s warm breath brushed Oikawa’s nape, making him shiver, so did the hand that snaked his pocket. Its waistband was still hanging just a couple inches below his butt, so the spiker didn’t have to reach so low for it. Inside his pocket wasn’t a single foil, but a carton that carried ten condoms. Thank goodness Ushijima was still keeping his thoughts to himself or he might call him pervert again. 

So much for preparing for a date with Iwaizumi.

Ushijima lined his cock against the setter’s entrance, teasing the saliva-wet hole right after slipping a condom. The condom was a perfect fit for him, well-lubricated too, though he’d like more lube for Oikawa’s sake. At least he was still loose from the vibe. Oikawa’s hole kept twitching, like a claw that wanted to hold on to something, or a predator’s mouth desperate to capture a prey. 

And then his head slipped in, earning him another gasp from Oikawa. It was the most beautiful sound his ears were blessed to hear. He eased himself further. Slowly. Deeper. _Too slow._ Inch by inch into that wonderful tight heat. Until he was fully sheathed.

He kept moving slowly, making sure not to hurt Oikawa, and it took him all his self control not to fuck him the way he wanted to. 

Oikawa balled his hands into tight fists. Ushijima was fucking huge, but the painful stretch was laced with unfamiliar pleasure. The thick, hot rod nailing him made him lose his mind. He couldn’t fight it. He didn’t want to. Still he didn’t want to face the reality of his long-time rival penetrating him so he called Iwaizumi’s nickname as many times as he was pounded in that excruciatingly slow rhythm. 

Ushijima, despite the considerate thrusts, must have put his shamelessness on another level for screaming someone else’s name. 

“Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan.” _Baka Iwa-chan!_ _You should be the one spending White Day with me! “_ Iwa-chan… Ah!”

He tightened around the taller male as his prostrate was hit the first time. Ushijima slowed his thrusts, as if his pace wasn’t frustrating enough. 

“There…” Oikawa breathed out, moving his hips to produce the kind friction Ushijima refused to give him. “More… Hurry.”

Ushijima, still not speaking anything yet panting warmly against the setter’s nape, held Oikawa’s hip to try a slightly different angle. He started pushing again, slowly at first, but gradually picking up pace to meet Oikawa’s rhythm. 

“There! There!” Oikawa cried every time the taller male touched his prostrate. Push after violent push brought him closer to the edge and away from his sanity. With Ushijima’s member inside him, he felt full like never before, as if all his life he’d always been so empty. As if Ushijima was a lone puzzle piece of himself he had never thought missing.

_The fuck?_

“Iwa-chan…” Calling his spiker’s name was all he could do to fight the earlier thoughts. 

Gross. Stupid. Thoughts. 

He moved his hips, meeting Ushijima’s thrusts in an attempt to take control. Instead of taking the lead, he looked more like a greedy whore asking to be devoured, which Ushijima did—gladly—biting his shoulder through his shirt. 

“M-More…” 

Such a contact wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted a hickey, a bite mark, something that would bruise. He needed a souvenir from their _heavenly_ —sinful intercourse. 

Ushijima accepted the invitation, showering the setter’s neck, now angled to accommodate him better, with hungry kisses, alternating between licking and sucking the sensitive skin. He rarely bites, and Oikawa thought he needed to beg for it. 

But how does one beg again? How does one make a sentence? 

His mind was a cloud of white. 

He threw his head back, one long pleasured gasp forced its way out his throat, body shuddering in the ecstacy of his second release, painting the door white with his seeds. It was so intense that he felt his soul abandon his shaking body. All that was left was the meat that continued to abuse of his prostrate. The sensation coursed every inch, every corner, every layer of his wobbling being, keeping him conscious somehow. 

He must have become boneless, with only Ushijima’s large hands keeping him up. His hips must have memorized the size of his hands, the depth each callouse pressed over his skin. 

He was weak under his touch, his kisses, his warm breath that kept his skin crawling. The sound of their slapping skin rang in his ears. He was dead beat, holding on for dear life as Ushijima worked his way toward his own orgasm. 

Ushijima finally reached his climax, biting Oikawa’s shoulder hard, muffling the noise—Oikawa’s name—that threatened to break out of his mouth. He kept pushing forwards, drowning in the satisfaction of emptying himself inside the beautiful setter. He wanted his seeds planted deep in him, mark him, impregnate him if possible. He wanted to curse whoever invented condoms. 

He slowly pulled out, body slumped against the smaller male’s back. 

“Let’s do this again,” he whispered, exhaustion evident in his voice.

“You wish!” Oikawa spat, equally tired. Yet satisfied. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm mad. Two weeks ago, my laptop broke. I was lucky to recover some of my files, including the revised chapter two of this fic. Days later, after trying hard to type the third chap, my stupid iPad (more like the app's fault for auto-saving and not having an undo option) deleted everything that I wrote. I'm kinda busy learning how to do digital arts so IDK if I'd be able to update any time soon (and I’m trying to write the BokuAka omegaverse that I kept in the back of my mind for years). I need help! I'm so sorry. But thank you to everyone who gave this story a try!


	3. Setter x Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh chapter because I suck at everything I do. 
> 
> I know I said I started writing this years back but stupid me, I still didn’t think about writing a proper outline, so the chapter took so long to be written. (Had no one asked, I wouldn’t wonder myself if Iwaizumi showed up or not on his date with Oikawa). I also had to rewrite this chap multiple times. 
> 
> Lastly, I’ve only rechecked this chapter twice so you might still see lots of errors. My apologies!

The shower was cold, but the places Ushijima touched still burned. 

Oikawa, fully dressed and careless of how soaked and heavy his clothes had become, cursed under his breath. It was no time to think about what he did with Ushijima (more like what the latter did to him), but his mind and body kept betraying him.

_Kinda like what Iwai-chan did, huh._

He absent-mindedly reached for the soap, knocking a shampoo bottle on the process. He rubbed the soap a few times in his hair, effort insufficient to produce lather, until the soap slipped out of his hand. He continued standing under the shower, hand in mid-air, lifeless eyes staring down his feet.

He needed the cold. He needed to chill, set his mind straight again. Oikawa thought he might as well wash out the remnants of Ushijima’s scent on him. He cussed another time, scolding himself for realizing that, even after being fucked in a filthy public bathroom by no less than his greatest volleyball nightmare, he hadn’t thought himself any dirty. 

_Yet._

Oikawa convinced himself he only hadn’t thought about it yet. He had other, more important things to think about, namely Iwaizumi leaving him out.

He was still on his orgasmic high, sitting boneless on the toilet seat, eyes blank towards the door Ushijima left slightly ajar, when he remembered his date with Iwaizumi. He fished his phone from one of his pockets to message his spiker, worried he arrived to their meeting place after he was dragged somewhere else. Before he could, he found one of his socials notifying him of a status update he missed from his ace.

Apparently, Iwaizumi had gone camping with some relatives just outside Tokyo. His status was a simple declaration of their party arriving in Yamanashi just in time for lunch. Before Oikawa could reach home, he received another notif as Iwaizumi posted a candid shot of himself, his natural smile as breath-taking as the Mt. Fuji behind him.

It was frustrating. Oikawa didn’t even know about his best friend’s plan for the weekend. Iwaizumi could have turned down his invitation properly if he had something else planned, but didn’t. 

_Or did he?_

Now that his mind was clearing up—standing under the shower must have been effective—Oikawa considered it. 

Iwaizumi had been refusing Oikawa’s invites more often than not. Thing was, he’d still show up on their meeting place two or three minutes earlier than the setter himself. Iwaizumi would complain about how annoying it was to get an e-mail reminder so early in the morning, would tell Oikawa to stop pestering him on a weekend, or have him invite someone else instead. There was even a time when he joked on how convenient it would be for him if Oikawa gets a girlfriend to fool around with. Oikawa remembered Iwaizumi taking his words back almost immediately, saying no woman deserved the punishment of having Jerkawa as a boyfriend. 

That was always the case. That had been the norm to their (friendly) dates. Oikawa was certain his ace would show up the way he always did. But he didn’t. 

He let him wait for nothing.

Oikawa balled his fists; cold water had nothing to do with his shaky hands. 

Ever since seeing his status update, Oikawa had been itching to blast Iwaizumi’s inbox. He could start with a simple _Why,_ spam him with crying stickers, pics and emojis. He even drafted a long message for his finale. There was the need to ask why he stood him up, need to make him feel guilty or responsible. More than anything, he needed his attention.

He thought of flooding every one of his status update with nonsense. Angry-reacting each of his snaps didn’t sound a bad idea either. He wished to complain, get mad, make him explain in length, start some childish bickering and such. Anything. 

No amount of status update or caption-less photos would fill the void inside him. He wanted something from Iwaizumi, a sentence or two that was meant only for his eyes, just so he’d feel less neglected. 

But there was none. An hour since he messaged him, and still there was none.

He leaned his back against the wall, only to slide down until he was sitting on his butt. He watched the soap by his feet melt. Slowly. Abandoned as he was. He closed his eyes and raised his head, face catching the same water that washed the helpless, poor soap. 

Oikawa imagined himself standing at that corner the whole day, not moving an inch and hoping against hope for Iwaizumi to finally come and meet him with an awkward smile, a bouquet of flowers or a tiny bag of chocolates in hand to explain his tardiness, along with a sincere “Sorry I’m late,” only to be notified of the spikers whereabouts. 

At least his socials remembered him. 

Today should have been the day he’d confess to Iwaizumi. The plan he thought was perfect had one giant flaw—Iwaizumi himself. The flaw was so stupid it was comical. _Pathetic._

Oikawa had never felt so small before, so pathetic and worthless to be forgotten by the very person who had always been there for him. The frustration was bigger compared to when he felt jealous of his genius junior back in their middle school days. The mouth of despair was devouring him whole and there was no Iwa-chan to rescue him this time. No pillar to support him, stop him from crumbling down.

The thought of giving up crossed his mind for the umpteenth time. It was hopeless anyway. Iwaizumi was straight and they’ve been best friends for years. Things could get ugly if he confessed. Awkward. It would affect the team as well. 

There was also the possibility of Iwaizumi not taking his confession seriously. Oikawa thought there’s an even higher chance of the spiker yelling at him for blabbering nonsense out of nowhere. 

Iwaizumi didn’t know he was gay. Who would when he was always surrounded by female fans whom he flirted with time and time again. Accusing Iwaizumi of being jealous for keeping him away from his fans wasn’t meant to taunt the latter. It was his false hopes. It was him wishing Iwaizumi would be jealous. He didn’t want a harem, Iwaizumi monopolizing him was all he needed.

_Not gonna happen._

He found himself smirking bitterly. He’d been denying the liquid running down his face were his tears, but they tasted like him. Salty.

He wrapped an arm around himself, another hand found its way to his soaked hair. He pulled a handful of his wet locks, but the sting was nothing compared to the pain building in his chest. He pulled his hair a bit more, just so he’d have something to do. He didn’t want to leave the baths yet, didn’t want to go back to his room, to where he left his phone, afraid no reply from Iwaizumi was waiting for him. 

_Cold..._

Oikawa shivered; sound of shower water freely hitting the floor loud in his ears. He wanted to stand up and turn the shower off, but his body felt heavy that he didn’t want to move. He simply wanted to stay put, hug himself close because no one else would. 

Before he knew it, one of his hands was already hiding under his shirt, pinching his nipple to distract himself from the cold. It was good... but nowhere near enough. His free hand struggled to unbutton his pants. Heat. More heat. 

The slightest contact between his thumb and cockhead made him gasp. His face started to heat up, member slowly coming to life with just a few touch. The contrast of cold water against warm cheeks, wet clothes against electrified body felt amazing. He considered masturbating in the shower more often from now on. 

Oikawa rubbed himself slowly, friction eased by the same water that continued to chill him. 

“Iwa-chan,” he moaned. He had long lost the shame of getting hard from thinking of his best friend’s naked glory. Iwaizumi was his sole fantasy, and he fantasized the spiker kneeling in front of him right now, hand squeezed beneath the band of his sexy little thong, whispering filth in his ears while jerking him off. 

_Faster. More._

Drool collected in corners of his open mouth, gasps freely flying off his throat. His breathing hiked, hand erratic as he chased his edge. 

“Iwa-chan... Iwa-chan...”

He bit his lower lip hard, stopping himself from spitting each and every cuss in his vocabulary. He hadn’t climaxed yet. He simply wanted to scold himself for suddenly thinking of Ushijima. 

Just how many times had he called Iwaizumi while being pounded by his rival’s cock? His way of denying Ushijima that time had backfired. Chanting Iwa-chan while touching himself would never be the same again. 

_Fuck._

He bit his lip harder. So what? It wasn’t like Iwaizumi’s his boyfriend. It wasn’t like he cheated. If anything, it was Iwaizumi who left him hanging in the first place. 

Oikawa convinced himself it was fine, conveniently disregarding the fact that his hand didn’t once leave his dick despite remembering Ushijima. Rather, in his head at least, he started singing the lefty’s nickname. 

His body shook at the memory of Ushijima’s touches. He swallowed, finding his fingers caressing his neck. There was still the bitterness of defeat, as if the taste took shelter in his throat, when Ushijima opened him so good it was criminal. Pure bliss.

_Pure bullshit._

Yet he came. Both that time and this time. He came. 

Oikawa thought Ushijima was a good distraction. 

———

Oikawa’s _You stood me up ;(_ was already answered by three question marks when he got out of the shower. 

As it turned out, Iwaizumi did tell Oikawa that he couldn’t meet him the same day he was invited out, but didn’t fully explain the situation, so Oikawa pretty much dismissed the rejection as _Iwa-chan playing hard to get again._

When Iwaizumi was bombarded by an early morning reminder of their hangout—which Iwaizumi strongly refused to be called a date—he messaged Oikawa back to tell him he’d be out of town to meet some relatives. Or at least that was what he thought he did. Iwaizumi admitted to mistakenly saving his reply as draft instead of sending it. He reasoned he was half-asleep when he responded, having to stay up so late the previous night to prepare for their camping trip. 

Oikawa sent him a crying emoji and nothing else. Iwaizumi offered to buy him lunch to make it up to him, but Oikawa was quick to say he prefer ramen after school instead. Just that and Oikawa was pretty much back to his usual self—volleyball maniac, school heartthrob, Iwaizumi’s best friend. At least for now.

Oikawa convinced himself not to confess until after high school, for the sake of the team and probably his heart. If things go wrong, it would be easier to avoid Iwaizumi once they graduated. 

Days passed without anything eventful happening. 

Oikawa and Iwaizumi entered the last year of their high school, officially taking captain and vice captain positions, putting more responsibility on their shoulders aside from the weight of being official setter and main cannon. Some juniors from Kitagawa Daiichi were added to their team. Despite being invited to join Seijoh, Oikawa heard Kageyama Tobio, his genius junior, enrolled to the “fallen powerhouse” Karasuno High School. 

Kageyama should be in a slump, being bitterly benched during their finals match, yet Oikawa still couldn’t brush his insecurities. He knew the boy would likely follow him in high school, but it’s probably thanks to his ongoing issues with his teammates that he didn’t.

Just to put his concerns to rest, he asked their coach to arrange a practice match with Karasuno, with the condition of having Kageyama as starting setter. The boy was awkward and Oikawa believed Kageyama would have a hard time fitting with his new team, but he still need to see how his precious kouhai was doing. 

As it turned out, he wasn’t the only one with that mindset. Aoba Johsai was scheduled to have a match with the current prefecture champions in a few days. Shiratorizawa was the one to contact them, which was kind of surprising, given how the other school have declined their practice match invites a number of times before. 

It was such an insult, not being acknowledged by the rival school despite being second best. Just because they were a mere second best. Shiratorizawa would rather practice with college teams because no high school team was worth their time. Not even Seijoh.

Not until Oikawa was captain, that is. It was with such a proud smile that their head coach suggested Oikawa leading the team was enough of a threat to Shiratorizawa that they wanted to gauge their strength as early as now. 

That wasn’t mere flattery, Oikawa knew, but something else was running in his mind. It wasn’t just about volleyball or their team or how much of a threat they turned out. A different reason. 

It was about Oikawa himself. _Them._ And that one time they shared in a bathroom stall at the far end of the shopping district.

_I have your pictures._

Oikawa squinted as he read the old message once again, an arm squeezed between his neck and his favorite pillow. 

How Ushijima Wakatoshi got hold of his e-mail address that same day was out of the question. Oikawa wanted to know what pictures he was talking about. Did he take pictures when he was masturbating? He was sure Ushijima’s hands never left his body when they fucked, but with his mind mostly a blur that time, he must have missed him taking snaps of his back, or the parts where they connected. 

It was an overused but effective blackmail material, yet Oikawa never replied. It’s been a month. Ushijima didn’t contact him either since then. But still...

He had his message sitting at the back of his inbox _still_ , like a piece of precious memory meant to be kept. 

Oikawa sighed, thumb swaying in front of the smartphone screen’s glaring brightness, torn between going back or pressing the delete button. In the end, he chose to close his e-mail app. He wasn’t one to delete e-mail messages anyway, even spams, promotions or account verification links. Deleting Ushijima’s message now would only make it somewhat special. 

Right. Maybe it’s safe to go with that kind of reasoning. 

He put his phone down, rolling around his bed until he was lying on his belly, face buried in his pillow. 

There’s still two more days before the weekend. Two more days before he’s forced to face Ushijima again. 

When the day finally came, while the Seijoh regulars were still unloading their bus, Ushijima came to greet them (mostly Oikawa). 

Their eyes locked. Ushijima’s pair was intimidating as always, Oikawa’s fiery. As if asking to get burned Ushijima closed the distance between them, standing himself right in front of Oikawa, only a couple of breaths away. The mere two-inch difference in their height was enough for Ushijima to tower over the setter. 

The first thing that came out of his mouth was, “You never replied to my message.”

Oikawa managed to keep the not-so-pure smile he greeted him with, but failed to stop himself from balling his fists. He was still thinking of a response when Ushijima turned to give the Seijoh coaches a little bow of greeting. Oikawa noted Ushijima’s unexpected hospitable side when he offered to show the coaches the faculty room, as coach Washijo still had some papers to check in his office. To negate the positive, he also noted how rude he was for keeping his ground while talking to the coaches from afar. 

Coach Irihata declined, saying he remembered the way from previous visits. Instead, he asked Ushijima to show the players the gym. 

“When did they get close?” Despite Oikawa’s and Ushijima’s distance to the others, he was able to make out Hanamaki’s question, probably directed at no one in particular. He didn’t hear anyone answer either. 

Oikawa continued to walk side by side Ushijima, ears focused on trying to pick up whatever he could from his teammates’ simultaneous and almost inaudible chattering. Aside from Hanamaki’s query earlier, no one else seemed to mind him together with the rival ace. 

“Listen,” Oikawa whispered, eyes straight ahead, grateful that Ushijima didn’t bother turning his head in his direction. “I don’t care what you do with the pictures you have. Delete them, spread them, I don’t give a damn. So don’t ever mention it again.” 

Not true. Of course Oikawa was dead curious. And scared. His high school volleyball career is only approaching its peak and the last thing he needed was a scandal to ruin all of his efforts. He was only pretending not to be swayed. He was hoping this way, maybe, Ushijima would think keeping those photos was useless. 

Ushijima hummed low, as if agreeing to his unvoiced idea of getting rid of the photos. “And here I thought you’d want to see them and delete them yourself. Are you embarrassed to see yourself?”

“What?” Oikawa wasn’t able to keep his voice down this time, attracting unsolicited attention from the other players. When he whipped his head towards the lefty, Iwaizumi’s curious gaze entered his peripheral vision. Not that only Iwaizumi throw him a look, but he could care less about the others for now. It was only a bit, but he was sure Iwaizumi saw the blush blooming on his cheeks. 

Ushijima remained expressionless. Oikawa wondered for the nth time if the rival ace was really human and not an artificial intelligence. Artificial strength sounded a better fit for him though. 

“Do you want to do it?” the lefty continued. Getting asked right after he was pulled from his thoughts left Oikawa confused. Why would Ushijima assume he’d want to _do it_ again with him?

“Delete your photos, I mean,” Ushijima added, as if he read Oikawa’s thoughts like he was an open book. 

Oikawa felt his blush deepen. Just how big is Shiratorizawa and they haven’t reached their gymnasium yet? Are they even going the right way? Ushijima must have been making them walk in circles. Sillies. They haven’t even walked for three minutes. 

“One set,” he heard Ushijima say in the middle of his silence. “Take a set from us and the photos are all yours.”

Oikawa was not interested. He wasn’t threatened. He wasn’t going to bite whatever condition Ushijima offered because he (was pretending he) didn’t care about his pictures at all. 

But for the condition to be a single set—

Oikawa couldn’t help the smirk that formed in his thin lips. “You’re awfully confident as usual, it’s disgusting. You’re still looking down on me, I see.”

“I never looked down on you. You know how much I acknowledge your skill.” Ushijima gave the Seijoh team walking behind them a quick glance before insulting them right in Oikawa’s face, in his deadass monotone like it was the most natural thing: “But they will drag you down. That said, do you trust your team to get you the win that you need?” 

Oikawa fought the urge to pull Ushijima by his collar, answering through gritted teeth: “Stop belittling my team.” 

“Prove me wrong.”

With the massive volleyball gymnasium in sight, Oikawa could feel Ushijima slow down. 

“We’re going to win in straight sets,” Oikawa claimed. He imagined Ushijima raising his brow as he felt his eyes on him. Now more than ever, Oikawa put his faith in his team. 

“If you are that confident, then you wouldn’t mind doing something for me if you didn’t manage to win a set?” Ushijima confirmed. 

“Anything.”

“Then let’s count every serve you miss. The number will be how many times I get to spank you after the game.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what. My glorious days are over. I’ll be back to work starting tomorrow. Oh, and I made an anitwt haha. 
> 
> Check me out if interested though I only post nonsense and some fan arts like once in a blue moon — @fujo_lee


	4. Intense Force

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I overestimated myself. I thought I can post this (along with my new series) right on Oikawa’s birthday but damn I’m days late!!! I had fun killing my brain cells when I wrote about their match, but that’s pretty much filler. I’m already dead so please don’t kill me lol.
> 
> Sorry if I talk too much. I can’t help it TT.TT

Oikawa used the neck of his aqua tee to wipe the sweat off his chin. Win in straight sets, huh? That perverted bastard must be laughing his ass out right now. Internally, probably. His expression was—well, he pretty much didn't have one. He simply stood in the service area, tall and huge ~~and gorgeous~~ as he was, dominant hand clutched a volleyball, ready to slam another serve. 

He had this uninterested look in his eyes, and that seemingly permanent grim line for a mouth, but not a single fucking knee pad. Oikawa had always noticed it (and not because he was checking out his thighs. Who the heck would check out those sexy thighs anyway). He was sure Ushijima's good at receives, was as crazy as everyone else with not letting the ball hit the floor, yet he never saw him dive for one.

 _Ushiwaka-chan_ was a pampered little baby. And he hated it.

Oikawa hated how receiving or saving balls weren't in Ushijima's repertoire. Someone else would do it for him, get him the ball so he could focus on smashing it on the other side of the court, instill fear had it not been there from the start; build up the fear to the point of despair and hopelessness if it had always been there.

Oikawa was one to rack up points through his service aces, other teams stick to scoring one spike at a time, still others rely on quicks or blocks or other gimmicks. Ushijima serving put a mere serve and block to shame. His goal was to intimidate and destroy.

Iwaizumi barely lifted the other cannon's serve but it was enough for Oikawa. He lost count of how many times he clicked his tongue since the first set (which they lost) and found no need for that this time. It was enough that the serve was received, enough that the ball was sent his way.

Oikawa was prepared to set to Iwaizumi, but the latter was late in his run up. He tossed a quick to their center instead. Kindaichi's spike was denied mercilessly by the annoying middle blocker with red hair and sleepy eyes.

Ushijima hit another powerful serve, blowing Watari to his rear, the ball going back to Shiratorizawa's side. Oikawa glanced at Ushijima's direction. He was more than ready to spike, which he did the moment the toss went up, breaking through the three-person block Oikawa and two others managed to put up.

Freaking pampered monster.

Just like the first set, Shiratorizawa reached 20 points first, with a crazy 5-point difference this time. They're going to lose _both_ sets at this rate.

They somehow managed to score after Ushijima's next serve, bringing Oikawa at the back and Iwaizumi at the front line.

"Oi," Iwaizumi called as Oikawa walked to the service area. "I don't know what that bastard told you earlier. But try to forget it and focus on the game, alright?"

Oikawa's face brightened. "Iwa-chan..."

"And I'm going to kick your ass if you miss that serve."

Oikawa flinched for effects, face relaxing and shoulders easing the moment Iwaizumi turned and repositioned himself on the court. He ran to the service line and received the ball thrown his way. There was something scarier than a promise of ass-kicking from Iwaizumi (not that he mind it), and that was what he was trying to avoid.

His very first serve in the second set went out, totalling to three misses since the first set. Putting more force to his serves would sacrifice his precision, but there's no point in luring Ushijima to receiving, someone else will always get the ball up for him anyway.

He settled on powering his serve, but not too much that it would go out of the park again. He'd like to try his hands on blowing Shiratorizawa's libero the way Ushijima did to little Watari.

Then came the whistle.

Oikawa threw the ball up and started his run, kind of missing the _oooohhhh_ chant his teammates in the bleachers do during his serves. It landed in between the libero and an unfamiliar spiker with a cute bowl cut, resulting in a service ace.

The Seijoh players roared. Those around Oikawa sent him hi-fives. His ace simply gave him a smile and a thumbs up. Shiratorizawa didn't seem to mind them scoring. If anything, Oikawa could read _challenge accepted_ written all over the rival libero's aura.

Oikawa's second serve was received beautifully by the guy in bib #2, whom he'd like to call Ushiwaka Protector no. 1 as he noticed the guy getting pretty much every serve he aimed at the lefty. In all honesty, bib #2 was in perfect position to “babysit” Ushijima.

The receive was sent to their copper-haired setter. Up until the finals last year, their setter was the guy with ash blond hair styled almost the same as his, and even with the second set drawing to a close, Oikawa still couldn't see what's so special with this bowl-cut boy to be on court instead of the older, more experienced setter. He did notice though the disgust in the other's eyes whenever he's throwing him a look. Not that Oikawa cared. He's used to being despised by setters jealous and inferior to him.

The toss went up and Ushijima spiked a powerful cross. The Seijoh blockers were a bit late and the trajectory was entering Oikawa's field of the court, forcing him to receive it. It was heavy, spin as evil and hateful and curse-worthy as ever. It bounced off Oikawa's arms, going out of bounds, but Iwaizumi followed for the save, bringing the ball back to their court. Hanamaki hit it last, giving their opponents a free ball. The rally went on, being the longest so far, only ending after Iwaizumi's second attempt at a straight, giving them a break.

Oikawa's third serve ended their streak, the ball landing just a little outside the end line. Oikawa clicked his tongue. Each "don't mind" sent his way didn't sound as reassuring as they should be. He could have taken a couple more points, bring their scores to a tie, at least, but he messed up.

Bib #2 went back to serve, thank goodness it was cleanly received. Oikawa tossed to the left but the break-their-spirits middle blocker was still in front, killing the quick for a block point. That middle blocker was the loudest in Shiratorizawa and it was annoying.

Another serve was hit and cleanly received. Oikawa tossed to Iwaizumi, whose power broke through the gap between the loudmouth blocker's arms. Iwaizumi screamed in victory, their teammates crowding him and clapping his back or shoulder. Oikawa didn't join them. He was content with looking at his best friend's broad and dependable back. Of course they were still behind in points, but at least the momentum's back on their side.

The game went on. Rallies got longer, but nothing they can't manage considering how many 5-set matches they played against Shiratorizawa before.

Shiratorizawa soon reached their match point _again_ , Seijoh lagging behind by a single point in their long deuce. If Seijoh scored, Oikawa would be next to serve. But goddamned Ushijima had to stand on the service area now. Damn his teammates and their goddamned mugs as well. They should all be thinking the game's in the bag now that Ushijima's up to serve again.

Iwaizumi lifted Ushijima's serve, silently cussing at the process. The ball felt heavier and Iwaizumi knew it wasn't because of his fatigue. Ushijima was a fucking machine for putting so much strength on his serve so late in the game.

Oikawa positioned himself to set, watching the ball come above his head. Iwaizumi was in position to spike. Three blockers readied to close in on the Seijoh ace, yet Oikawa gave him the toss, confident their main cannon would push through.

Iwaizumi did, but the Shiratorizawa libero was fast to save the spike. The save was short, not reaching their setter. Bib #2, Leon if Oikawa heard the name right, followed through, sending the ball to Ushijima as if there wasn't anyone else in their team who can score.

Just one more point and the game would be over. Not like Oikawa and the rest of his team would allow it.

They did a three-person block, Kindaichi screamed to declare his touch. Watari followed, diving for the ball before it could hit the space outside of their court. The save wasn't half-bad, and Oikawa was able to set it decently right after Iwaizumi's call.

 _He can score. He_ will _score,_ Oikawa chanted in his brain, eyes trailing Iwaizumi's breathtaking form.

If they could get this point, Oikawa will serve and—BAM!

"Victory!" screamed Shiratorizawa's annoying middle blocker.

Oikawa's heavy breaths drowned under the whistle signaling the end of the practice match.

Yeah. Practice. Match. It should be no big deal. Yet it felt like a real game, so was their loss.

Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi. The ace was breathing as heavily as everyone else, heads up and hands on his waist. He looked at the others. None of them seemed to take the loss as hard as he did, which frustrated him more. What, was he the only one who believed in winning against Shiratorizawa? Was his trust misplaced?

He watched the other team from behind the net. They were fast to gather at the end of their court, ready to do the usual after-game bow, not wasting a single second to celebrate their win. Or maybe winning against second-best Aoba Johsai didn't really mean anything to these champs. He balled his fists, eyes darting straight to the rival team's main cannon.

Oikawa was panting, so much that he was perfectly conscious of how heavy his chest was rising and falling. Iwaizumi touched his shoulder, calling him so they could join the others in lining up. Oikawa nodded, feeling rather lonely the moment Iwaizumi's palm left his shoulder to go ahead of him. Before he could follow his spiker, Ushijima returned his gaze. 

There was nothing in it. Nothing was in his face nor his eyes, and his deadpan only insulted Oikawa more than anything else in the world. His feet finally moved, bringing him together with the team he was supposed to lead.

Coach Irihata's talk was short, mostly focusing on the positive. This was supposed to encourage the players to polish what they're good at, but to Oikawa, it sounded like the hard slap of reality: their best couldn't even hold a candle to Shiratorizawa.

Seijoh then did their stretches on a corner, Oikawa keeping a close watch to Shiratorizawa's practice. Nothing they do rang special or spartan in Seijoh standard. If anything, Shiratorizawa kept their training menu simple, sticking closely to the basics.

A toss went up and Oikawa couldn't help but adore Ushijima's form mid air. He appreciated his jump in silence, the snap of his wrist, the satisfying sound of his palm slamming the ball down, the sharp cut in the wind, and the crazy bang it made the moment the ball hit the floor. The spike had way too much force it was hard to believe their game was no more that 5 minutes ago.

Another spiker went for the next toss. Ushijima walked out of the court and was handed a towel and a bottle of water. His juniors often assist Oikawa that way as well, but his petty ass was screaming _pampered baby_ again.

Oikawa must have looked at Ushijima too much that the lefty turned his head to his direction. They locked eyes once again and Ushijima gestured to meet him outside. Oikawa watched the spiker return the towel and water bottle to the younger team member before casually walking his way out of the gym.

 _Punishment time, huh?_ Oikawa thought, suddenly feeling all too bitter about their loss once again. He counted a solid minute in his head before rising to his feet to follow Ushijima.

"Hey, you're done with your stretches already?" Iwaizumi asked, hands held his feet together, head up and waiting to meet Oikawa's eyes.

"I'll just go wash my face," Oikawa answered, walking away without looking back. Until he exited the gym, he swore he could feel Iwaizumi's eyes on him.

He looked around until he spotted Ushijima, who rounded a corner upon seeing him. He looked around again, making sure no one was there to witness him following the rival ace. It was a Saturday, and Oikawa was grateful of the lack of people in school that they hadn't ran into anyone yet. If there were any student athletes around, like the volleyball team, they should be busy with their own practices.

The way to the back of the high school building wasn't exactly a short walk. Oikawa was already knitting an excuse in his brain as to why he was gone for so long when he was only supposed to wash his face. But it was hard. He couldn't think of anything when something else was running in his mind—was Ushijima planning to whip his ass behind a school building? What if someone walked in on them? What if there were students having special classes in one of the classrooms and one of them looked out the window? The possibility of getting caught was high, the way they could be seen was endless. It was even riskier than having sex in a public bathroom as the stall at least had a door to offer them some privacy.

He was sure Ushijima was staying in the dorms—this was mentioned to him when he was scouted by Shiratorizawa after graduating middle school—but asking him to bring him to his room instead didn't ring like a good idea either. Still, weren't there any safer place? How about their club room? Nope, still risky. Maybe another bathroom?

Oikawa couldn't help but breathe out his concern once Ushijima stopped walking in front of him. "What, you're gonna spank me here?"

Ushijima turned around, a speck of confusion dusted his usual deadpan. It was amusing, a sight to behold if Oikawa would admit. Seeing any hint of emotion from Ushijima was something new. Maybe he wasn't any less human than Oikawa would give him credit for.

"Ah," Ushijima started, suddenly sounding enlightened. "You mean your end of our deal. Were you looking forward to it?"

Oikawa felt his face heat up, but forget about his blush. Did Ushijima just tease him with a smile? Oikawa scrutinized the slight arc in his lips and confirmed it. A smile! Pampered baby slash goddamned robot Ushijima-not-showing-emotions-is-my-middle-name-Wakatoshi smiled! ~~And it was cute.~~

Oikawa cleared his throat, pushing the image at the back of his mind because that wasn't their topic. And he wasn't looking forward to a humiliating spanking either. He raised his chin, a hand in his waist. "Stop acting like you've called me here for a different reason Mr. Pervert with a straight face."

"Said the one using sex toys in public," Ushijima retorted, his smirk growing more obvious.

Oikawa squinted, mouth curved to a frown. "What did you call me here for?" Oikawa asked instead, refusing to go by Ushijima's pace, content at how his tone hinted another message: _Let's get this over with._

Ushijima breathed out something that Oikawa labeled as a sigh of defeat, yet the lefty's next words reminded him of still standing on the losing side, in more ways than one. "Information. How are you and Iwaizumi?"

"None of your business, obviously."

"You're not dating, are you?" For some reason, the question rang more like a statement and Oikawa found himself balling his fists. He didn't like Ushijima's tone one bit.

"I said we're none of your business. Now if there isn't anythi—"

"Wanna try dating me instead?"

"What?" Talk about some that-escalated-quickly moments.

"I know you have your needs and I am the same. And we're both single so there shouldn't be a problem if we start dating." Ushijima looked so serious. There was not a trace of his earlier smirk, nor any hint of lust in his dark olive-green eyes. Even his voice had its usual matter-of-face tone that Oikawa questioned himself if it was only him putting malice on the rival's proposal.

"I have problems with it," Oikawa argued. "And even if that wasn't the case, why would you think I'd agree to satiate my needs together with you?"

"You can think of me as Iwaizumi again."

"No," was Oikawa's immediate answer. There was no need for him to think twice, no need for another second to consider, especially after that particular thoughts he had under the shower. "I'm not gonna fall for that again."

Ushijima heaved a disappointed sigh. "So I need another bait to make you agree?"

Oikawa shook his head in disbelief. Ushijima had assumed a thinking pose, eyes directed somewhere else, a hand in his chin. "Honestly though. Why are you so intent at having sex with me when I'm sure you have your fair share of admirers? Don't tell me I was your first time that you can't forget me?"

Ushijima kept his thinking stance, making Oikawa pout at the fact that he was ignored. How could he?

"Oi, are you even listening?"

"Oh." Despite the monotone and lack of expression, Oikawa was able to imagine a bulb lighting up above Ushijima's head. "I still have your pictures."

Oikawa smacked his forehead. "You really don't listen, do you? I said I don't care what you do with my pictures."

Ushijima nodded. "Yes, so I'm thinking of sharing them with Iwaizumi."

"Excuse me?" Oikawa's voice must have gave him out that the smirk was suddenly back in the lefty's lips.

Ushijima nodded some more, as if agreeing to the idea himself. "How about you send me his mail add?"

"And why would I—"

"It's fine if you don't want to. I can ask him that myself later. But maybe it's better to show him the pictures now."

"You're kidding me." Nervous laughter accompanied Oikawa's comment. But jokes surely weren't Ushijima's thing and his feet started moving. Oikawa was sure the slight bump of their shoulders was intentional. He spun around, walking briskly to catch up to Ushijima's long strides. There was warning in his voice when he stretched his arms in front of the spiker. "You're not showing Iwa-chan any of my embarassing photos."

Ushijima looked at him in silence, eyes moving to scan his body from his head down, slightly creeping Oikawa out. "But nothing about you is embarrassing. If anything, your photos might even help Iwaizumi realize your charms."

"S-Shut up!" Fuck those pictures, the way Ushijima complimented him with such a straight face was downright embarrassing that Oikawa's face started to burn. But the burn felt good, tickling his cheeks that it was hard not to smile. Not like Oikawa didn't know how cute and charming he was. Ushijima was just _so_ smooth. "Stop acting like you'll do that for my sake. You just want me to lose face to Iwa-chan!"

Ushijima frowned. "You said I can do anything with the pictures?"

"But no showing them to Iwa-chan or any of my teammates."

"I took the photos so they are mine. I can show them to whoever I wish to show them."

"But they are _my_ pictures. In fact I think I should sue you for taking them without my permission." Oikawa's last line wasn't intended to scare the lefty. Still, to not show any sign of backing down but parade such maliciously victorious grin instead. The nerve!

Ushijima tilted his head a bit to the side and Oikawa was blessed to see him in a literally different angle. The shadow casted by the massive building behind him added depth to his already prominent features. He could care less about Ushijima's personal life but if he'd give a guess, he'd say that the rare, teasing smile had made countless panties drop. And maybe briefs, too.

On with the alleged seduction, Ushijima dared to enter Oikawa's personal space that their noses almost touched. The setter swore there was something in the other's breath that made his heart skip a bit. He didn't know what, aphrodisiac maybe, because he swore the dangerous way he closed the distance between their faces made something inside his shorts twitch. Shit, his face must be on fire now.

"Do you want me to delete your pictures?"

He swore—if they were in a different place or situation—that deep tone would make Oikawa come untouched. Maybe he did. He was getting weak on the knees, mouth and throat starting to feel dry. Something in those dark olive eyes was making him want to submit.

Oikawa blinked, fighting the hypnotic waves he hypothesized Ushijima's robot side possessed. He casually pushed him back, holding the gasp that threatened to flow out at the touch of the lefty's chest. Oikawa had to ask himself what was so wrong with him, thirsting for his rival like a needy little bitch.

"I want to delete them myself," Oikawa answered, thankful none of the words came out shaky or breathy.

Ushijima raised a brow. "And in exchange?"

Oikawa took a deep breath, eyes closing to avoid the attraction that was Ushijima Wakatoshi in front of him. "Listen. I do not agree and will never agree to be your sex friend. I am only going to do this because I do not want you to ruin my relationship with Iwa-chan. This is a one-time thing."

"Fine by me," agreed the spiker. "We can meet tomorrow. I'll send you my home address later."

"Home address?" Oikawa' eyes thinned with suspicion.

"No worries. My mother is currently out of town so we'll have the all the house to ourselves."

Now the thinned eyes were matched with meeting brows. "You planned this."

Ushijima neither agreed nor denied the allegations. He simply flashed him a smile, the prettiest one he'd seen so far. Too bad he could make out the dark intention behind it.

"Let's go back. Your teammates must be looking for you by now," Ushijima said instead, humming an unfamiliar melody as he walked away.

Oikawa heaved another deep breath, bitterly impressed at how well he was played. He had to make sure _tomorrow_ will be the last of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for those who are interested, my new 2-part series is some kind of Parallel Universe UshiOi. And I really mean Parallel Universe here. Okay, that’s a spoiler. I’ll shut up now. 
> 
> Muah!


	5. Setter Dump

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo folks! I don’t know about your timezone but it’s still August 13 in my country so HAPPY BIRTHDAY USHI!!! It’s Left Hander’s Day too and Aone’s birthday! 
> 
> Anyway, I finished writing this five minutes ago and decided to post without doing proofs so pardon for any error.

Light footsteps cut through the silence. Ushijima's back looked broader up close, his shoulders wider than Oikawa initially thought them to be. It was easier to see them now that he's walking two or three steps behind the spiker.

Ushijima's house was pretty far from Shiratorizawa, much nearer to Aoba Johsai considering the length of bus ride (a bit more and they could have been neighbors). Oikawa wondered if he ever considered enrolling to Seijoh in his middle school days. But of course, he was already an asset to Shiratorizawa back then, so there's no way the academy would let him go. Well, not like Oikawa wanted him on his team. It was just a what-if.

What if they became teammates? What if Ushijima was his ace? What if he was tossing to the top 3 ace of Japanese high school volleyball?

_You should have come to Seijoh._ The thought made Oikawa choke on a quiet giggle.

"Are you nervous?" Ushijima asked out of nowhere and without so much as looking back. He simply ascended the stairs up the second floor one step at a time, dominant hand playfully dragged across the rail on their left.

Oikawa frowned, following closely behind nonetheless. "Why would I be?" He let his fingers wander the wooden rail as well, appreciating the beautifully smooth varnish.

The Ushijima house was an interesting fusion of traditional and modern Japanese, with a well-kept lawn surrounding an exquisite stone pathway, sliding doors of glass but which frames are wooden, and an array of expensive looking antiques and minimalistic furnitures. Ushijima didn't bother showing him the sitting room, but he could imagine one with tatami flooring.

"You're quiet than usual," Ushijima explained.

Oikawa dramatically stopped at his track, propping a hand on his waist, another flipping his bangs as he held his chin up. "Obviously, I don't like speaking with you."

Ushijima, finally reaching his landing, turned to him a bit. "But you are speaking with me right now."

Oikawa frowned some more. "I'm talking to you right now because it's rude not to respond. I'm _trying_ to play nice, Ushiwaka-chan."

"Act like it then," Ushijima said, reaching his hand out. Oikawa ignored it, putting his hands inside his pants pockets instead before continuing his steps. Ushijima didn't seem to like the gesture that as soon as Oikawa was on the landing, Ushijima wrapped an arm around him, forcing him to face the lefty ace. "Now what has happened to playing nice, Oikawa?"

A lump suddenly formed in his throat and Oikawa's initial reaction was to swallow. And hold his breath. He suddenly remembered Ushijima exhaling aphrodisiac (nothing scientifically proven, of course). Their faces were dangerously close, noses almost touching.

Ushijima's dark, olive-green eyes were piercing through him. It was invasive, like being stripped using one's lustful gaze, but Oikawa couldn't turn away. The spiker's eyes were so beautiful up close it was a waste not to look at it. They were drawing him in, making him weak on the knees as his soul was being sucked out of his body.

Okay, that last part was an exaggeration, but why did Ushijima Wakatoshi have to be so fucking attractive? He tried to deny that _fact_ by pushing Ushijma by his gorgeous face, freeing himself from the half-hug.

"I said I was trying, okay? Stop touching me."

"I thought you'd let me touch you and have my way with you today?"

"Shut up, you perv. We're only going to do it once, then I'd delete _my_ photos and leave. That was the deal so don't push your luck."

"Just once, huh?" Ushijima nodded, fist under his chin in the same thinking pose Oikawa saw him with yesterday. "But one round can even be all afternoon if I hold out long enough."

"Excuse you, my ass is so tight I'll make you come in under three minutes."

"Interesting," Ushijima said, and his eyes did glint with interest. Oikawa didn't want to, but he was beginning to get used to this side of Ushijima. He could easily hear the tiny hint of excitement in his manly voice, lowkey appreciating the little curve at the end of pressed lips. It would be handy if he could read him in court as easily now.

"Yeah, everything about me is interesting," Oikawa answered, just so he had something to say to distract himself from adoring the lefty's blessedly rare smile.

Thank goodness Ushijima finally continued to walk. The first door to their right was his room and he offered to hold the door so Oikawa could enter ahead of him.

Ah, a normal bedroom. It was as clean and bright and minimalistic as the other part of the house. The bed was neat so as the study table on the corner. Above it was a wooden shelf that held framed medals and certificates. What a way to brag his achievements in Oikawa's face. He was retracted from his thoughts when Ushijima wrapped an arm around him from behind.

"I can't wait to bury myself deep inside you, Oikawa. I can't wait to have you make me go in under three minutes," he teased, breath hot and voice deep in Oikawa's sensitive ear. He fought the urge to gasp.

Fine, fine. It was wrong for him to think Ushijima was a robot. He was human. He had emotions and needs. And he was acting like a horny teenager right now because he was a horny teenager indeed. Oikawa thought he was partly to blame as well, having this irresistible charm and all. He may be used to handling his admirers, but a fanboy, a really unexpected one at that, was another story.

Ushijima took advantage of his silence and placed an open-mouthed kiss in the middle of his equally pretty neck. His stomach contracted in surprise, and the arm around him tightened. Ushijima's chest was so broad against his back, so warm and comfortable to lean on.

Ushijima proceeded to lavish his neck and shoulder with sound kisses, hand snaking its way under his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. Oikawa swallowed another moan, cursing himself for succumbing to his enemy's delicate touches. He was slowly getting weak on the knees. He wanted to blame it to his age, to his being just another horny teenager.

One of the hands underneath his shirt started to pinch his nipple and Oikawa could only chew on his lips to minimize his gasp, the other was pulled out to grab his crotch.

"Shit," he cussed, holding on to Ushijima's wrist. He faked a smile, hoping he'd sound teasing when he said, "Not so fast, Waka-chan."

It shouldn't be this fast, shouldn't be so far from what he planned. It wasn't his intention to just go with the flow and let the rival ace do as he pleased. He turned around, pivoting on his heels to tug on Ushijima's shirt. "Why don't you take this off first?"

"Take it off for me," Ushijima suggested instead, gaze dark and voice deep. It wasn't a challenge but an invitation. It was his smooth attempt at seduction.

"Sure," Oikawa accepted, pleased at the disinterest in his voice. And he was. He swore he was, until he pulled his shirt up and laid eyes on the glorious sculpture that was Ushijima's body. He swallowed back the adoration, focusing himself at the task of undressing the ace. He tugged the waistband of Ushijima's shorts next. "Now take this off for me, Waka-chan. All of it."

"Shouldn't we take this off first?" Ushijima said, putting his hands back under Oikawa's shirt, pulling him closer by the waist. His caresses slowly went up, lifting the hem of the soft cotton shirt along.

Oikawa used the almost inexistent distance between their faces to whisper in Ushijima's ear, trying his hands on the same seduction technique the lefty was using on him. "I want to see all of you."

"Get on the bed," Ushijima responded, desire clouding the signature monotone. Oikawa did as he was told. He made himself look excited, licking his lips as if in anticipation. His mouth watered when Ushijima started stripping himself of all his remaining clothes.

"Satisfied?" Ushijima asked, proud. He was packing, having all the rights to be proud of his own body.

"Almost," Oikawa answered, purposefully looking back with heavy lids, eyes flicking down to the huge member hanging between Ushijima's legs. Huge, yet still flaccid. He slid himself deeper to the center of the bed, raising a hand and using his finger to gesture Ushijima to come get him. Ushijima obeyed like a good boy, sinking his weight into the mattress and crawling on top of Oikawa, until the setter was laying on his back, trapped on either side by beefy arms.

Oikawa reached in between their bodies to touch Ushijima's shaft. He drank in the slight change in the spiker's expression as his nail gently scraped along the side. The furrow between Ushijima's brows must have meant he felt uncomfortable, but his little blush stated otherwise.

Ushijima began to thrust in his hand, his cock slowly becoming heavy in between Oikawa's fingers and hefty palm. His fuck meat was hot, so as the way he looked at the pretty setter, who couldn't help but blush. His own member started to twitch inside his pants. The hazy memory of being filled with that monster was resurfacing from the back of his mind, overtaking his reasons.

Oikawa smirked at Ushijima's increasing pace. "My, my. Are you going to come without even putting it in? This is going to be over earlier than I expected then." He loved the scorn in his voice, thankful his dirty thoughts didn't give him in. Or maybe it was his lust talking, teasing the taller male into punishing him.

Oikawa ran his hands up the spiker's shoulders, gently pushing him down, guiding him between his legs. "Make me feel good too." He gave Ushijima his fall-for-me smile, and Ushijima's eyes darkened with more desire. The sight made him shiver.

Ushijima hooked his fingers over the band of Oikawa's pants. Oikawa raised his hips, slipping a hand under him to grab his mobile from his back pocket. The lift helped the spiker undress him, and he dragged the pants slowly along with his grey boxers. The tight garter of his boring underwear scratched slightly against the length of his legs in a surprisingly unfamiliar and erotic way. He watched the super ace pull the garment over his left foot, his toes curling in the process, but left the other leg hanging loosely around his right ankle. He tried to kick them off him, annoyed by the weight of his clothes, but Ushijima kissed his knee for attention.

"Let's leave it," he said, voice ever deep and dark and sexy. He hang Oikawa's right knee over his shoulder. When the Seijoh captain didn't say anything, Ushijima proceeded to dip his face in between the setter's legs. He exhaled, and his warm breath made Oikawa shiver.

Oikawa swore the action was intentional, probably meant to make his dick twitch to life. Ushijima's mouth was so much hotter than his breath. The warmth engulfing his tip and Oikawa's head fell back on the pillows. He remembered how good it felt to have the spiker's large hands spread his cheeks apart, how brilliant his tongue was inside his ass, and thought it wasn't fair that he was also good at giving heads.

Oikawa bit his lower lip hard, willing himself to _not just yet_ submit to the pleasure. He'll have time for that later. He looked down to make sure Ushijima was taking all of him in his mouth. He had a good angle, and he salivated at how hot the strong and manly spiker looked with a cock in between his lips.

He fumbled for his phone, noticing the slight shake of his hand when he opened his camera app. The auto-focus refused to work, and he had to tap his touch screen a couple of times until the blurry expanse of brownish green cleared into Ushijima's hair. He pressed the shutter the same time Ushijima raised his head. He kept clicking, wondering if he should also take a video.

Ushijima finally noticed what he was doing and raised his eyes.

"I'm taking counter-blackmail material," Oikawa explained before Ushijima could free his mouth to ask. "I need to make sure you won't bother me again after this. Of course I'll still delete my photos in your possession."

Ushijima pulled back but didn't answer. He fisted Oikawa's cock, smearing his saliva all over as if he wasn't drenched enough. He licked his length, eyes staring straight the setter's, as if putting on a show for him.

Oikawa smirked, impressed. "You like being filmed?"

"Do you like filming me?" Ushijima asked back, bringing Oikawa's head back in the heat of his mouth.

Oikawa swallowed, guilty. The idea of having Ushijima's naked glory saved in his phone had at least once flashed his mind. He could crop his head out and it's the perfect fap material. Iwaizumi was in no way small, but the thought of being crushed by those arms chilled him good.

He put his phone down. "Shut up."

Ushijima let him go again, latching onto the soft, white skin on Oikawa's thigh, sucking lightly and careful not to leave a mark.

"That's enough. Let's get this over with."

Ushijima let him go completely, climbing down the bed and walking to his side table. Oikawa watched him fish out a little bottle from the drawer and some familiar foils. Oikawa sat up and removed his shirt, folding them neatly on top of the drawer. He was finally able to remove the pants and boxers hanging from his ankle, throwing them down the floor without a care. He caught Ushijima's disapproving look and he could care less whether that was because of the mess he made or the fact that he didn't leave the garments around his ankle.

Ushijima knelt on the bed nonetheless, throwing the packets of condom on the bed. He started removing the cap of the lube, pumping a good amount over his fingers. The lube smelled like sweet mango and Oikawa longed to lick the liquid off the spiker's digits. He let the bottle plop down the bed so his hand could spread Oikawa's legs. Oikawa let himself be stretched slowly, relaxing his body and welcoming the burn.

He had known it, but Ushijima really had some long, talented fingers. The way they twist and curl about was making Oikawa arch his back. He fisted the sheets, eyes closed and biting his lips. If he could, he'd fold his ears too to prevent himself from hearing the dirty wet sound of being prepared.

Soon there were two thick fingers freely going in and out of him, the earlier burn fading into pleasure. He could feel himself getting wider, his walls accommodating the digits earnestly like esteemed guests. He kept biting on his lips, intent at keeping as much moans to himself as possible. But the fingers were finally able to find his love button. He successfully reduced his voice to a gasp, mouth hanging open and head dipping back into the softness of the pillow.

Another finger was added inside him and Ushijima continued pressing his prostrate, pushing him to the edge. He gasped some more, willing his throat to swallow back his moans.

"Don't hold them back. Let me hear your voice."

"Enough!" The sound Oikawa made was breathy and pleading. He stretched out one hand to push the spiker's away, the other remained planted on his side, crumpling the sheets underneath his palm. He lifted this hand to cover his face, hiding a piece of himself from the lefty's heavy gaze. "I'm ready."

Ushijima pulled out. There was the sound of tearing foil, the sweet scent of mango filling the air anew. Ushijima pushed his thighs up, lifting his hips off the bed and letting his legs rest on either of his broad shoulder. He slipped himself inside without warning, making Oikawa heave a deep breath. Ushijima breached his rim nice and slow, letting him adjust to the stretch. He pushed himself inch by inch so his thick head could squeeze itself on the places his fingers didn't reach.

The position was hard on Oikawa. His weight concentrated in his upper back. The pressure was nothing in comparission with the intrusion. He cussed at Ushijima's impaling girth. He felt bigger than his ass could remember, maybe longer too, because he swore he could feel his cockhead pushing on his organs.

"Let me hear your voice," Ushijima repeated, rhythimically thrusting now. His voice came out deeper, more commanding than before.

Oikawa refused, chewing on his lips. He'd rather flood his mouth with the taste of iron than spill embarrassing sounds.

Ushijima took the challenge, ramming harder into him and punishing his prostrate. One particular thrust forced a stammering _ahh_ out of Oikawa. The hand covering his eyes flew over his mouth, muffling his voice to little mewls.

"Was it good?" Ushijima teased, thrusting rather experimentally, pulling out slow but pushing back in with unreserved force.

Oikawa continued to whimper underneath the spiker, swallowing continuously so his saliva wouldn't dribble down his chin. Ushijima fucked into him without mercy. And it was good. A part of him wanted to admit it was good, that it was awesome. Another part wanted the incredible feeling to stop. The second half was guilt-tripping himself for being in the clouds right now.

Ushijima's sexy groans shouldn't turn him on. The way he was being filled shouldn't feel amazing. He shouldn't wish for Ushijima to continue his unrelenting thrusts. He shouldn't breathe out pleasured sounds. But it was good. _Really_ good.

He hated his body for not listening to him, and himself for letting this bullshit occur in the first place. He went back to biting his lips. Before he could draw blood, tears flooded his eyes. His whimpers turned to quiet sobs, nothing that escaped Ushijima's undivided attention on him.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, panic coloring his voice. He stilled his hips, but didn't pull out. He reached out his hand to cup the setter’s face, thumb wiping his tears.

Oikawa appreciated the gesture, but it wasn't enough to calm him down. He wasn't hurt anywhere, he was scared. He was afraid at how his body reacted to Ushijima, at the rate he was succumbing to the pleasure.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Ushijima cooed, lifting Oikawa's body off the bed and sitting him into his lap. He locked him in a rather reassuring embrace, fingers brushing the setter's soft brown locks. "I'll be more gentle now. We'll do it at your preferred pace. Let me make you feel good, alright?"

Oikawa nodded, burying his head on the crook of his rival's neck. Ushijima kept his promise, moving only once he was ready. They held their sitting position when they resumed. Oikawa took the lead this time, eyes closed all throughout the intercourse. He filled his head with thoughts of Iwaizumi again, blindly fooling himself that it was the man he loved he was having sex with. Ushijima's silence and lack of communication skill helped with the mental image.

He came before Ushijima did, and the spiker laid him softly on the bed to rest. He kissed his head some more before pulling out slowly. Tears and exhaustion blurred his vision, but he saw the spiker unsheath himself of the condom. The last thing he remembered before passing out was Ushijima's groan and his hot seeds spilling all over his torso.

The sky had turned pale orange when Oikawa woke up. He was cleaned and clothed, phone and wallet lied on where he remembered putting his folded shirt. Ushijima wasn't in the room.

His backside throbbed so much it was hard to sit up. His chosen pace was painfully slow, the sex lasting so much longer than he intended it to be, and now he was facing the consequence.

He limped his way out of the room, finding his rival at the bottom of the stairs. He was talking in his phone, his back as broad as before. He turned his head when he heard Oikawa's footsteps, abruptly ending the call.

"I'm fine," Oikawa announced, stopping Ushijima from meeting him halfway. "I'm going home."

"Should I walk you to the station?"

"No need," was his cold answer. "Hand me your phone. I need to delete my photos before I go."

Ushijima did without saying a word. The phone was unlocked when Oikawa received it. Ushijima's wallpaper was something pre-installed, not a selfie or anything volleyball-related. The photo gallery was full of selfies though, not with Ushijima's but the annoying red-head from his team. There were photos of his other teammates too, with Ushijima only filling the background.

Oikawa clicked his tongue in disbelief. How could Ushijima keep his photos in his gallery when his teammates had easy access to it? There should be a limit to how dense a person could be. His question was answered somehow when he scrolled enough to see himself in the sea of selfies.

It was a pretty blurry... snap of him doing his warm up for their practice match against Shiratorizawa. Which was taken only yesterday.

He scrolled pass through more photos and found a ridiculously zoomed-in image of his face, pulling on the collar of his aqua uniform to wipe his chin. Next to it were more photos of him that must have been taken at the same time, probably during the quarter finals of last year's Spring Tournament.

He was serving on one photo, diving for the ball in another, throwing high fives in the next, and so on. He tried scrolling again and found more similar pictures. There was even a short clip of him tossing to Iwaizumi, but there wasn't anything blackmail-worthy.

He whipped his head to Ushijima's direction, enraged. _Played_.

"What's the meaning of this? Are you kidding me?"

"No," Ushijima answered short.

"Where are the photos that you tell me about?"

"They are all in my gallery. You've seen them."

"What about the photos you took when we first had sex?" he asked, sounding hysterical now.

"I didn't have any." It was infuriating how Ushijima's voice remained as calm and as monotone as always. "And I never said anything about taking your photos in the bathroom."

Oikawa clenched his teeth, hand trembling in anger around Ushijima's mobile. "And why do you have," he paused, breathing in in an attempt to calm himself. "Why do you have _these_ photos? Are you stalking me?"

"Not really. But I like taking your pictures. I do it whenever I get the chance." Ushijima sounded disgustingly sincere. Like his earlier promise of being gentle, of making him feel good. "I've always liked you, Oikawa."

He'd had enough.

He pushed the gadget into Ushijima's chest and took a deep breath.

"And, and what? Why are you confessing to me now? You already know I like Iwa-chan. What do you expect to get from playing with me like this?"

"I... I just wanted you to know." Ushijima's panic earlier was nothing in comparission to the weakness lacing his voice right now. He sounded needy. Defeated. Begging for understanding, maybe. In other time, Oikawa would have held his chin up for reducing his rival into this. This. Whatever it is. But it wasn't any other time. It wasn't after a volleyball match. It was this time. In the moment he chose to confess.

"Why? What good would it do you?"

"I thought maybe you'd give me a chance."

"Why in the world would you think that?" Oikawa almost laughed. Just almost. There wasn't anything funny in their conversation. He wished it was all a joke but it wasn't. Ushijima wasn't one to joke.

"Because you're still not together with Iwaizumi?"

"My relationship with Iwa-chan had nothing to do with you. Or this. And even if Iwa-chan wasn't in the picture I still will not love you back because I—" He let the words hang in his mouth.

"Bacause you what?" Ushijima asked. It didn't help that Oikawa could filter the genuine interest in that monotone. As if he was ready to change whatever he needed to change in himself just to meet Oikawa's standards.

"Because I hate you."

Not really. Oikawa hated his guts, his attitude and intimidating demeanor, his strength and skills, but never him. He wasn't that petty to take his game losses personally. If he would be honest to himself, he had high respect to the other captain.

Ushijima didn't respond for once, eyes registering his shock. Oikawa avoided his gaze.

"I'm going home. Let's pretend this conversation never happened."

He left without deleting a single photo of himself from Ushijima's phone.


End file.
